As I sat in
the dentist waiting room the other day I was astounded as I watched the dental nurse
run up a flight a flight of stairs.
“I used to
be able to do that” I thought to myself.
Part of me
is mystified when I lost this super power but of course I know full well it
went hand in hand a cancer diagnosis and life changing, life-saving op!
My current
earworm is Kate Bush “Running up that Hill”, while never an ability or even an
ambition of mine to go quite that far, running up a regular flight of stairs
was always manageable.
The staccato
sound of shoes on a hard floor or the muffled thud of slippers on carpet,
carried out with the precision of a quick step in time to some unheard refrain.
“I’d be running up that road
Running up that hill
With no problems”
Oldest son
and I have just been away, for what has turned out to be our annual treat to
see the end of year ATP tennis finals at the O2.
Oh boy there
were a lot of stairs to climb.
Sometimes we
relented and took the escalator, gliding to the next level with ease. But I
want to push myself and get fitter, so we often took the stairs, not running,
just walking, sometimes getting slower and slower until…
…there was a
point where I just had to stop.
These were
the stairs that took you to the highest level of seating. Once you start
climbing there is no option to switch to the easy life. Other spectators floated
past while I caught my breath and regained momentum.
It isn’t just
a lack of fitness that makes me slow and steady, like the proverbial tortoise
in the fable (always a favourite story of my youngest son).
My lack of
pace also comes from Peripheral Neuropathy. An unwanted legacy of the chemo.
I literally,
and I’m not kidding when I use that word, cannot feel my feet properly. They
are in a perpetual state of tingly pins and needles.
Remember playing
in the snow as a child, yes you might have had two pairs of socks on your feet
and a thick pair of gloves on your fingers but if you are outside too long your
extremities become numb.
Oh how joyous it is to come inside and get warmed up. Feelings
creeping slowly back into your fingers and toes. It happens so naturally you
hardly notice.
Now imagine
the feeling never comes back.
I have
another earworm….
“I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes…”
Only I don’t!
I carefully watch
each step, knowing my legs work and are propelling me up or down but not
entirely feeling when my feet land. I’m on autopilot.
In a way I
guess it’s how amputees walk with prosthetic legs, trusting your own instinct.
It’s just
something you get used to and maybe the nerve ending will repair themselves and
the symptoms will ease over time. On the other hand, this might just be another
permanent reminder of all that life has thrown at me.
There’s a
bit of a campaign at the moment saying that not all disabilities are visible.You never know everything another person is battling.
I’m not
after sympathy or a blue badge but hopefully I’ve given you an insight into what
life after having cancer can be like for some. There are many varied symptoms
of having poison pumped through your veins and most people just carry on, thankful
to have another day before them.
As we were reminded, flashed up on a big screen at the tennis, 1 in 2 people will develop cancer over their lifetime. Cancer research was the sponsored charity for
this years’ event. I hope and pray they can find successful cures and
treatment that is symptom free.
When the
tennis was over, we negotiated more stairs, this time going down what appeared
to be a never-ending spiral of concrete. Down an escalator to the tube, out the
other end and then a weary walk to our accommodation for the night.
And then before
bed – a final flight of stairs… hahaha
